His Sleep Talk Named His Goomah,So I Took Everything

Three in the morning, and my husband was talking in his sleep: Be good for Daddy, baby. Tomorrow I'll buy you and Mommy a new house.

I was wide awake in an instant. We'd always used protection. What baby?

I shook him. What did you just say?

He rolled over, voice thick with sleep. Bad dream. Client chasing a debt.

I said nothing. In the dark, with the bedroom curtains filtering a pale stripe of streetlight across the floor, I found his phone on the nightstand beside his holstered .32. I slid the screen open and pulled up his PayPal.

Three months ago, a transfer of five hundred thousand. The memo read: Down payment. Recipient: Elena Caruso.

I searched the name. Her Instagram loaded, and the top post was an ultrasound.

"Our little angel is three months along already. Daddy says when you're born, we'll be living in a big house."

Posted the day after my husband's transfer.

I screenshotted everything and sent it to my father: "Dad, the great son-in-law you picked isn't just cheating. He's got a bastard on the way. I'm going to make sure he leaves this marriage with nothing."

His reply came fast:

"That son of a bitch! Sit tight, girl. I'm putting Matteo Santoro on this tonight. Nobody betrays the Moretti family. I'll make him wish he'd never been born."

I could picture it: Don Moretti in his study at the compound, rosary beads going still between his fingers the moment he read my message. When those beads stopped, mercy ended. I'd seen it happen to men far more powerful than Damian Valente.

I forced down the bile and kept scrolling through Elena Caruso's Instagram.

One month ago: "Picked out our little love nest today~ The neighborhood is gorgeous! Thank you, hubby, for giving me and our baby boy such a warm home."

The photo: her hanging on Damian's arm outside a realtor's office, belly visible under a fitted dress, beaming.

Damian had his hand on her waist, looking at her with a softness I had never seen on his face. Not once. Not in four years of marriage. Not on the night he'd stood before my father and sworn his loyalty to the Moretti bloodline.

Two months ago: "Hubby says he loves me and the baby most in the whole world, and he'll give us the best life possible. Tonight's steak was amazing!"

A high-end restaurant. On the table, Kobe beef I'd never let myself order.

I remembered that day. I'd suggested we go to that exact restaurant to celebrate my taking over the Family's waterfront accounts. Damian had frowned and said it was too expensive. We'd ordered takeout instead.

Too expensive. For a Moretti.

Three months ago: "Two lines on the test! Baby, your timing is perfect. Mommy and Daddy are so ready for you!"

Her hand laced through Damian's, both resting on her belly.

Each photo landed harder than the last, until I couldn't breathe.

I cried without making a sound, tears soaking the pillow in the dark.

Damian slept soundly beside me, a faint smile still curving his lips. Back in that other life again, no doubt, playing happy family in his dreams.

I looked at that face, that mask, and felt every last trace of love turn to something cold and clean and final.

You really thought you could hide this from me, Damian?

I am Adriana Moretti. No one makes a fool of me.

I slipped out of bed, padded to the study at the end of the hall where the Family ledgers were locked in a floor safe, and turned on the computer.

As the sole heir to the Moretti Family network, I had more than enough ways to make him regret this.

First, I needed to find out exactly who Elena Caruso was.

One call to an agency the Family kept on retainer, and I had a full profile within the hour.

Elena Caruso, twenty-three. Fresh out of a no-name college. Working the front desk at Damian's operation.

Unremarkable family. Both parents factory workers from a neighborhood the Morettis didn't bother to collect from.

The classic small-time climber, angling to change her life by attaching herself to money and power.

What made my blood boil even more: her start date at Damian's operation was six months after our wedding. Six months after the ceremony at Saint Augustine's, where every capo in the city had kissed my cheek and called Damian a lucky man.

She'd gone after a married man from day one.

That shameless little bitch.

The next morning, Damian woke me up the way he always did, gentle and warm.

"Breakfast is ready, babe." He kissed my forehead. "I've got an important client today. Might be home late."

I watched his lower lip. He wet it, just slightly, before the word client left his mouth. A flicker so small most people would miss it. I never would again.

I managed a smile. "Sure. Work comes first."

Something flickered in his eyes, a brief surprise, probably because I hadn't pushed back at all.

"Oh, uh, babe. I'll probably be tied up the next few days too. Don't you know, don't read anything into it."

I turned my wedding band once with my thumb beneath the sheets where he couldn't see. "Of course not," I said. "Be safe out there."

"I know." I nodded, sweet as anything. Inside, I was sneering.

Go on, then. Run off to your kept woman's prenatal appointment.

The moment Damian left, I drove straight to the Valente front operation. As a Moretti with blood ties to every legitimate business the Family backed, I had every reason to walk through that door. My father's name was on the silent ledger that kept those lights on.

Sure enough, a young woman sat at the front desk. Elena Caruso.

She was even prettier in person than in the photos. Long hair, clear eyes, the kind of face that looked like it couldn't hurt a fly. Who would ever guess that this sweet-faced girl was the kind of woman who went after other people's husbands?

"Hello, how can I help you?" She smiled brightly, her voice crisp and pleasant.

"I'm here to see Damian Valente." I studied her with practiced casualness. She wore a loose-fitting business outfit, but even so, the slight swell of her belly was unmistakable. She was already showing.

"He's in a meeting. May I ask who you are?"

"Adriana Moretti." I gave my name and watched her expression shift.

Of course she knew who I was. Damian Valente's legal wife. The Don's daughter.

"Mrs. Valente! One moment, please. I'll notify him right away." She scrambled for the phone. I could hear her lowering her voice: "Mr. Valente, your wife is here."

Damian hurried out moments later, a stiff smile plastered across his face.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" His eyes darted to Elena.

"Thought I'd check out your workspace. Maybe we could grab lunch together." I slipped my arm through his.

"Sure, let's head up to the restaurant upstairs." He was already steering me toward the elevator, eager to get me away from the lobby. A soldier stationed near the entrance gave a small nod as we passed. Even here, in the building my father's money had furnished, Damian couldn't forget who really owned the ground beneath his shoes.

Once the doors closed, I asked lightly, "That receptionist was cute. How old is she?"

"No idea. Some new intern, just started recently." Damian answered too fast. He wet his lower lip before adding, "I don't really pay attention to that stuff."

"Mm." I nodded, filing his lie away with all the others.

Over lunch, I played the concerned wife, asking if work had been stressful, if he'd been feeling okay. He ate the food I put on his plate and said, all warmth and gratitude, "Nobody takes care of me like you do. I'm so lucky to have you."

Watching that performance almost made me gag.

"Oh, that reminds me," I said, as though the thought had just occurred to me. "A friend mentioned a new development over on the east side of the territory that's supposed to be really nice. Should we go look at places?"

Damian's fork froze mid-air. "Look at places? Our apartment is perfectly fine."

"It's a bit small, though. If we have kids someday, we'll need more room." I kept my tone casual, testing him.

His face visibly tightened. "No rush on kids. We've got enough financial pressure as it is."

Funny how financial pressure wasn't a concern when he was buying a house for his kept woman.

"You're right. We can wait." I agreed on the surface. But I'd seen every ugly inch of his true face now, and I'd seen it clearly.

I turned my wedding band once with my thumb under the table, slow and deliberate, swallowing the fury before it could reach my eyes.

That afternoon, I excused myself to use the restroom and made a point of passing the front desk. Elena was chatting with a colleague. I heard her say, "The doctor said the baby's perfectly healthy. Due date's at the end of the year."

"You're so lucky, Elena. Your boyfriend spoils you rotten. Bought you a place, takes care of everything," the colleague said enviously.

"He promised we'd get married once the baby's born." Elena's face glowed with happiness.

Married?

I nearly laughed. He hadn't even divorced me yet, and he was already promising to marry someone else. Hadn't even gone before my father to ask for a dissolution, and he was making vows in whispers to a girl behind a reception desk.

That was when Elena spotted me. The color drained from her face instantly.

"Mrs. Valente." She stumbled to her feet, voice catching.

I walked over, smile perfectly in place. "Elena, right? Pregnant? Congratulations."

She instinctively shielded her belly. "Thank you, Mrs. Valente."

"The baby's father treats you well?" I pressed gently.

"He does." She couldn't meet my eyes.

"Good. A young woman should hold on to what's real." I let my gaze settle on her. "Don't let some scumbag deceive you."

I turned and walked away.

I stepped out of the building and took a long breath.

Elena Caruso. You think you can hide behind his back and I won't know what to do with you? Let me show you what the lawful wife's playbook looks like.

That night, Damian came home late, just as I expected. He reeked of women's perfume.

"Dinner with one of the silent partners. Had a few drinks." He let out a beery hiccup. "Let me go shower first."

While the water was running, I picked up his phone.

Elena: "Honey, the checkup went great! The doctor says they can tell the sex now. It's a boy!"

Damian's reply: "That's amazing! My son! I'll go with you tomorrow to shop for baby stuff."

"You're so good to me, honey. I love you!"

"I love you too, you and our baby. Once he's born, we'll be a real family."

Reading their nauseating little love notes made me want to throw up.

They had it all planned out. They were just waiting for the lawful wife to disappear.

Like hell.

I set the phone back exactly where it had been and fixed an innocent smile on my face.

When Damian came out of the bathroom, I went over and started kneading his shoulders. The bedroom was quiet except for the low hum of the estate's perimeter lights clicking through their cycle outside the window.

"You've been working so hard, honey. So many dinners with the associates lately."

He leaned into it, a flash of smugness in his eyes. "All for our future."

"Oh, by the way," I kept my voice light, idle. "That little receptionist at your office looked pregnant. So young to be having a baby."

His body went stiff. I felt it under my palms, the muscles along his shoulders locking like a man who'd just heard a gun cock in a quiet room.

"Really? I hadn't noticed." He wet his lower lip before the words came out.

"Looked pretty far along, too. Three or four months, maybe." I kept pressing.

"Kids these days. They don't know how to be careful." The words came out thin, scraping for cover.

I was laughing inside, but on the surface I kept my voice warm and concerned. "Right? I hope her boyfriend's a responsible guy. Otherwise it's just sad."

"I'm sure he is." Damian was starting to sweat.

The next day, I had the private investigator keep tailing them.

Sure enough, Damian took Elena to an upscale baby boutique on the far side of the territory, well outside the neighborhood where anyone in the Family might see them. The two of them browsed the aisles together like any happy couple.

In the photos, one arm circled her waist, the other hand resting on her belly, and the way he was looking at her, soft, adoring, was exactly how he used to look at me when we first got married.

It got worse. They went to a jewelry store afterward and picked out a diamond ring worth two hundred thousand for her.

When we got married, I'd told him not to spend too much on a ring, that I didn't need it. He'd been so moved his eyes went red, almost tearing up. And now he was dropping two hundred thousand on a diamond for his kept woman?

I turned my wedding band once with my thumb. Then I saved every single photo. Evidence for the dissolution.

That afternoon, I used shopping as an excuse and headed to the mall Elena liked to frequent.

It didn't take long. She was in a caf, chatting with a girlfriend.

I sat down in a corner nearby and listened.

"Sunny, are you really sure about this? He's a married man." Her friend sounded worried.

"So what? He doesn't love her. The only reason he's still married to her is her family's money." Elena waved it off. "He told me once I give him a son, he'll find an excuse to leave her."

"But what if he's stringing you along?"

"He's not. Look how good he is to me." Elena held up her hand to show off. "This ring? Two hundred thousand. He bought me an apartment, too. You think a man spends that kind of money if he's not serious?"

Her friend still looked uneasy. "But if his wife finds out"

"So what if she does?" Elena rubbed her belly, triumphant. "I'm carrying his son. That's the biggest card I could possibly hold. Men want their bloodline. He's not going to throw me and his child away."

"And that old hag? Three years married and she couldn't pop out a single kid. I got pregnant and it's a boy. Tell me, who's he going to pick?"

Old hag. The words nearly made me lose it right there.

Twenty-eight. I was twenty-eight and she was calling me an old hag?

I forced the rage down and kept listening. My thumb found my wedding band again, turning it slow.

"He promised me. Once the baby's born, he'll go public with us and make me his wife." Elena's face was glowing with the fantasy. "I'll be the lady of the house. Never have to put up with anyone's looks again."

"Does Adriana Moretti even know you exist?"

The sound of my name in this woman's friend's mouth, spoken so casually in a caf where anyone with the wrong ears could be sitting. I didn't move. I didn't breathe.

"Probably not. Damian plays the perfect husband at home. Never slips up." Elena laughed, pleased with herself. Her fingernails tapped twice against her coffee cup. "But even if she did find out, so what? I have a son. She doesn't. I win."

Enough.

I couldn't listen to another word. I stood up and walked out of the caf.

Outside, the afternoon sun hit me and the street noise of the territory rushed back in. Two of our neighborhood soldiers were leaning against a wall half a block down, unaware I was there, talking about nothing. The whole world was going on as if nothing had cracked underneath it.

I called my father.

"Dad. It's time."